Sweet Jesus! I feel like a whole new woman today! Just about all the other complications that made me feel horrible are gone, leaving me only with the actual gallbladder removal pain to deal with, which is an incredible relief. So I think I'm going to blog about the whole ordeal.

Day 1:

My family and I went to my favorite Chinese place for dinner, and then we rented a couple movies. In about the middle of the second one, I got really bad heartburn. I'd been having some heartburn problems lately, so it seemed logical. Only now I realize none of the heartburn I'd been having for the last month or so was actually heartburn. I loaded up on antacids, and went to bed in hopes that when I woke up it'd be gone. Only I couldn't sleep. And it wasn't gone in the morning.

Day 2:

We went to the emergency room bright and early that morning. They gave me a huge load of antacids. After that didn't work, they gave me a shot of muscle relaxant. After that didn't work, they said I had heartburn because I hadn't eaten since last night, notwithstanding the fact that it had started a couple hours after dinner. They gave me toast. They told me I had acid reflux, gave me a prescription for more antacids, and sent me home in as much pain as I had come.

After a few more hours I was just dying. It was the weekend, so we couldn't get into a regular doctor's office (which, I and my parents particularly wanted to get me in to see my gastro-intestinal specialist). Finally, we called the hospital and found out there was a guy from my gastro-intestinal specialist's office on call there. We called him, and he got me admitted to the hospital.

I have to say, I love that dude. He took charge. He got me in the hospital, figured I had gallstones, got me a sonogram to prove the gallstone theory, got me drugs for the pain, and lined up a surgeon for me all in a tiny fraction of the time it took the ER doctor to fuck around with me and send me home. And he WAS pissed at the ER for what they did to me. I don't fit the profile for gallstones (overweight women in their 40's are the typical gallstone patient), but I was apparently showing classic symptoms.

I spent the rest of the day drugged up at the hospital.

Day 3:

Surgery. Hurt pretty badly, of course.

Day 4:

Another day at the hospital recovering. Came home that night.

Day 5:

I started throwing up from the vicodin they gave me for the pain (before that I had been getting pain drugs interveniously). As bad as throwing up is in general, throwing up right after abdominal surgery: agony. Especially since you can't take your pain drugs because they're what is making you throw up in the first place. I was also constipated, which somehow had something to do with the throwing up, so I had to take a laxative which burned and I hated. But, all and all, the constipation went away, and the throwing up stopped once the vicodin got out of my system. I probably would've been in the clear if it weren't for my next problem: peeing.

That's right. I couldn't pee. I'd be bursting, and barely get out a drop. We still aren't even sure why this happened, except that maybe the vicodin was the culprit for this too. Finally, we went back to the ER and they put a catheter in me. Which.... actually, almost made me forgive the ER for what they did to me earlier. The relief I felt when the pee started coming out was almost religious.

I spent the night at the hospital. I couldn't get to sleep for hours. And when I finally did, it was less than an hour before some genius decided to wake me up to take my bloodpressure. And I couldn't fall asleep again.

Day 6:

This day was spent at the hospital as well. At this point I had started going crazy from sleep deprivation (I'd been having sleep issues since this whole thing started, not just the night before). I was totally mean to the surgeon (he was who re-admitted me to the hospital after I got the catheter), which I feel bad for now. But honestly.... when I am seriously sleep deprived, I get depressed and psychotic and lash out at everyone around me, and this was no exception. I about attacked him when he said I had to stay the night to make sure I could pee by myself alright.

Which, I hated the hospital by then. I couldn't sleep there, the bed was making my back ache, the IV was on a point in my wrist that made it so I couldn't move my hand at all*, the backache from the bed was making my headache, the food was living up to all the cliches about how bad hospital food was..... I just wanted to go home.

Day 7:

I got to go home! I slept nearly the whole day, but was still worrying about not peeing enough, and was freaking out.

Day 8:

Yesterday. And the peeing was the one count I wasn't sure I was out of the woods on when I posted that morning. But I am, now. So yay. I still felt pretty miserable though, because I'd gotten not much sleep because of freaking out about pee. And I had continous diahrea (multiple times an hour for 7 or 8 hours). And my back and head still hurt.

But today.... like I said, I feel much better. About the only thing I have to worry about now aside from the actual surgery pain is a lingering headache. And the surgery pain, while not fun, is a lot better than it started out. So things are looking up.

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* They really hadn't wanted to put it there, but at that point I had no good places left for an IV. I have horrible veins, and this was about the fourth IV I'd had at this point. The first IV they gave me for the pain drugs before the surger wasn't big enough to put the anesthesia in for surgery, the second one they had to take out because the antibiotics they give you burned out the veins around it, and the third they took out when I went home the first time. On top of this, there were several failed attempts to start an IV on me before they got the ones that actually went in properly. And also they'd taken blood about 3 times and failed at least once each time for that. Basically, I look like a heroin addict now.

On top of this, I really really really hate needles. I had a panic attack the last time before this someone had tried to get my blood. This whole incident has obviously desensitized me a bit, but it still freaked me out a whole lot every time they went at me with a needle. Especially since EVERY time they'd not just stick me, but dig around in there and go, "oh, your veins roll," like it's a big surprise even though I warned them of that before they went in.